


I'm Just Wild About Harry

by moonflowers



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Desk Sex, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Harry's not dead, Idiots in Love, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Misuse of Eggsy's 'posh voice', Roxy knows everything, Speakerphone mishaps, because how was I meant to resist Oxford style, of course he isn't, only briefly but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-03 08:16:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5283476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonflowers/pseuds/moonflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy had never been one to fuck about once he’d decided to do something. He made decisions and he followed them through, sometimes even if he knew full well they were stupid ones. And while he was sure that telling Harry how he felt wasn’t stupid – if he had to pick one word to describe it, he might go for ‘inevitable’ – that didn’t make it any easier to figure out how to go about it. He was pretty sure Harry would bust a vein if he just marched in there and snogged him – that was probably something a gentleman didn’t do. Alright, so he’d wing it. That usually worked out fine anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really late to this fandom my god. I've barely scratched the surface as far as reading fic goes, and I know this plot is far from original but here's hoping it doesn't trample on anyone else's too much.  
> Hopefully there isn't a fic with this title already... if not, how? It's too perfect.

_I’m just wild about Harry,_  
_And he's just wild about me,_  
_The heavenly blisses of his kisses,_  
_Fills me with ecstasy._

_He’s sweet just like chocolate candy,_  
_Or sweeter than honey from a bee,_  
_Oh I’m just wild about Harry,_  
_And he’s just wild about me._

~

“Sit closer.”

“Pardon?”

“We’re meant to be in love and shit, yeah? So move closer.”

“My dear boy, I’ve been going undercover since before you were born, kindly stop telling me how to do my job.”

“You gunna start telling me about how in your day you had to walk ten miles to school and back in the snow and you were thankful for it?”

“Of course not. I went to boarding school.”

“Of fucking course you did.”

“And we’re not meant to be in love, we’re meant to be shagging, which is something entirely different altogether.” 

“Right, and how does us sitting on opposite sides of this ugly sodding booth show we’re shagging?”

“…On second thought, perhaps you’d better move closer.”

It was the first mission the two of them had been on together since Harry had waltzed back from the dead and into Eggsy’s life. Just a low key thing to scope out a bloke and see if they were after the right guy – Harry was still getting back into the swing of things after his miraculous return, and Eggsy had insisted on going with him. Could you blame him? The last time Harry had said ‘Eggsy, wait here while I go and take care of shit,’ he’d gone and got himself shot in the head, so excuse him for being a touch paranoid. That said, it was over a month since Harry had returned to Kingsman, and Eggsy was still a bit pissed that nobody had bothered to tell him he wasn’t dead in the first place. So it turned out an evening spent pretending to fawn all over him in one of the swankiest bars they could buy their way into didn’t hold as much appeal as it might have done under different circumstances. Harry had insisted the charade wasn’t necessary from the start, but Merlin had given Eggsy an unreadable look, before agreeing that an extra pair of eyes wouldn’t go amiss, adding that pretending to be a couple did indeed have the bonus of keeping any unwanted suitors at bay while they went to work. 

For all their rapport, the two of them had never officially worked together on an assignment, something that didn’t hit Eggsy until he was on his second drink, half draped across Harry’s lap and keeping an eye on the party – including their mark – sitting at the bar. Flirting was something that came easily to him whether it was sincere or not, enough so that he couldn’t believe his luck that he was getting paid for nothing more than smiling and simpering at the admittedly drop dead fucking gorgeous man at his side. Ouch – alright, not the best choice of adjective. And yeah, technically their cover could be blown at any moment and the scumbag of a man they were tracking could pull a gun or whatever, but still, easy. He hoped that at least from a distance across a crowded room they appeared unobtrusive, happily absorbed in each other, because close up was another matter entirely.

“I still don’t see why you didn’t want me here,” Eggsy purred, lips close to Harry’s ear.

“It wasn’t necessary,” Harry replied, raising a hand to stroke at the back of Eggsy’s neck, “it’s an easy task, one that I could have managed perfectly well on my own.”

“If it’s so easy, then why didn’t you send one of the others, _love?”_ Eggsy said, pretending to preen under Harry’s touch, arching back to show off a little more than was strictly necessary. 

“I wanted to do it myself, Galahad,” Harry said, smiling indulgently at him and speaking through gritted teeth, “as I’ve every right to. Now if you’d be so kind as to stop questioning your superior’s motives…”

“Fine,” Eggsy leant further into Harry’s space, smiling lazily as their noses brushed, “you’re the boss, _sir.”_

Harry sighed and leant back against the plush cushioning of the booth. “You do realise you’re behaving like a perfectly spoiled little brat, _darling,”_ he plucked the cherry from the gaudy cocktail Eggsy had ordered (just to observe Harry’s distaste as he did so) and held it out to him. 

“And you’re behaving like the snobby git you always claimed not to be, _babe,”_ he narrowed his eyes and took the cherry between his teeth. 

If somebody were to ask him, Eggsy would say he was over it. And they _had_ asked him, a lot in the beginning, though not in so many words. Roxy might touch his shoulder, Merlin raise an eyebrow in silent question, and he’d nod his thanks and get on with shit, because that’s what Kingsman did. It was what he’d always done. And yeah it hurt, of course it fucking did. He’d only known Harry Hart a handful of months (not counting that one meeting years ago he could barely remember) and even during that time they’d only seen each other sporadically, between his training and Harry’s scoping out Valentine. But it had been more than enough time for Eggsy to miss him when he was gone. 

Right from the off, he’d represented opportunity for Eggsy. From the moment he’d whisked him away from the police station to the moment Eggsy’d watched him get shot in the head outside a church in Kentucky, it was Harry that had made him want to step up his game, make more of himself than he’d been given the chance to before. It had been like in the movies, as he’d pointed out several times just to irritate Merlin, other than there was no convenient training montage. It had definitely felt like the end of the movie, when V-Day was over and done and the world saved, and Eggsy had gone back home (or Harry’s home, more accurately) adrenaline and the high of victory long since gone, and cried like a bloody _child_ over the loss of his mentor, his friend, the mysterious bloke who’d turned up out of the blue and given him a chance. But there were things to be seen to – the world may have been saved but it was still torn apart – so he put on his big boy trousers and went to work, because fucked if he was going to waste the chance Harry had given him. Things settled, and long story short, Eggsy was fine, as long as he didn’t let himself dwell on it. So naturally, everything had gone to shit when Harry Hart waltzed back into his life, very much not dead.

A movement over by the bar caught his eye. “Arthur?”

“Yes?” Harry’s breath was warm on his cheek.

“I think – “ he paused, needing to be sure, and cast a covert look over Harry’s shoulder to the bar. He felt Harry tense next to him, every line of his body taught and ready to jump into action if need be. Unfortunately, Eggsy was right – someone _was_ watching them, and not in the gunning for a threesome way that some of the other patrons were. He mentally raced back through his training, trying to think up the perfect distraction to make them appear less suspicious and without them having to abort the mission altogether. His rapid thoughts settled on a particularly excruciating chat on diversion technique Merlin had given them all not long into their recruit training. Bingo. 

“Kiss me,” Eggsy’s eyes flicked back to Harry and away from the bar, where one of the entourage of their mark was frowning hard at them, leaning to whisper something to the man next to him. Aw shit. 

“Whatever for?” Harry blinked, looking unflatteringly scandalised at the notion. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake...” Knowing it was act now or risk their cover being blown, Eggsy grabbed the back of Harry’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. It was perhaps a bit too forceful to be in line with his character alias, but hopefully the act itself would be enough to discomfort the bloke watching them and put him off the scent. He kissed Harry hard but shallow, putting on a good and hopefully convincing show for anyone who might be watching, but not terribly intrusive close up. The perfect manufactured kiss. When he pulled back, Harry’s expression was unreadable, and Merlin was talking in his ear, confirming the glasses feed alone had managed to identify the bloke and get all they needed to know – this wasn’t their guy. 

They left the bar as quick as they could without looking suspicious, Eggsy springing back to a respectable distance away as soon as the door had shut behind them. 

“Quick thinking,” Harry said, straightening his tie, “well done.” 

“Thanks,” Eggsy said, hating every moment of the odd, civil but not friendly relationship they had walked themselves into.

They didn’t say much more to each other after that; nothing at all on the quick drive back to HQ, and only the barest of essentials necessary to get the debriefing done with. Luckily there wasn’t a lot to say, it being the wrong guy and all anyway. They bid each other and Merlin a tense goodnight, and headed home. 

As he locked the door behind him, the numbness Eggsy had fallen into after leaving the bar that evening faded away, and the familiar, prickly anger he’d been dealing with ever since Harry had come back resurfaced.  
After he’d had some time to deal with the pure, unbelieving joy that Harry wasn’t dead and the finer points of his survival had been explained, he was absolutely fucking raging. Back before Harry had saved his arse and brought him to Kingsman, Dean had always done his best to make Eggsy feel like a kid, constant patronising remarks and making a point of not telling him things, saying it wasn’t his business, and to bugger off and play with your mates, even when he was well into his twenties. It wasn’t his poor mum’s fault, but every second of it had stung. Turned out it felt a hundred times worse when it was Harry who’d made him feel like a stupid kid, not important enough to be let in on the little things, like oh wait turns out I am alive after all. 

The rational part of him understood why it had been necessary to keep it concealed, but it was overshadowed by the hurt at being kept out of the loop over something as big as this. He didn’t say anything much about it, how fucking could he? Harry was back, and that was good, and he refused to act like a sulky child over it and prove them all right. At least not on the outside. Roxy, Wonder Woman herself, had of course figured out how badly he was taking it, and asked him in all seriousness if he was in love with Harry. Eggsy had blinked at her, told her of course not, and the subject was dropped. Because he didn’t love him, not like that. Nah, he wasn’t mad in an ‘I love you’ way, more of a ‘you’re not fucking dead why didn’t you tell me sooner you total prick’ sort of way. But he kept it mostly to himself through sheer force of will, and after a week or two, the seething hurt faded into mild irritation, and other employees stopped carefully skirting around him in the corridors. It was only with Harry that he remained a bit short and snarky, and fucked if he knew how to fix it.

~

A few days after their slightly tense intel assignment at the bar, Harry summoned Eggsy to his office. He still wasn’t used to the fact that Harry’d taken on Arthur’s title. After Eggsy had killed off the old Arthur, Merlin had stepped up to keep everything in order as best he could in the absence of a ‘king.’ How he’d found enough time to do all his normal shit _and_ Arthur’s job, Eggsy had no idea. On reflection, he guessed Merlin had taken the role purely to keep it vacant for Harry’s return.  
Even after months spent recuperating in some secret hospital at the arse end of nowhere, Harry had come back for more. It wasn’t much of a surprise, he knew Harry and he knew he would have done the same himself. Nope, the fact that he stepped up to take on the role of Arthur wasn’t surprising – what was surprising was that he was walking and talking and breathing and doing a lot of other shit that someone Eggsy had seen get shot in the fucking face shouldn’t be able to do. Other than Merlin, everyone else had seemed just as surprised to see him, which probably should have gone some way towards soothing his injured pride at being kept in the dark, but it hadn’t.  
His own appointment to the position of Galahad had been even harder to come to grips with. It hit him like a punch to the solar plexus when Merlin had drawn him quietly aside to make the offer. He’d just about managed to stammer that he’d have to think about it before he had to leave the room. The thought of him replacing Harry was ludicrous, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh, cry, or vomit. In the end, he’d accepted the role of Galahad because the only thing that would have felt worse than replacing Harry with himself would have been replacing him with somebody else. 

Flora – an unobtrusive girl with smooth, dark skin and freckles across her nose whose skill with throwing knives was frankly terrifying – fell neatly into step with him as he was making his way to Harry’s office. She had won the position of the knight Geraint, the previous one having been in deep cover at the time the sim cards were activated, unfortunately while in a room full of blokes just as handy with weaponry as he was. She smiled, looking far too bright than anyone had a right to so early in the morning. 

“Morning.”

“Alright Flora. How’s things?”

“Good thanks,” her smile grew even brighter, “I’ve just heard I’m going on an assignment with Lancelot to Hawaii.” She was practically bouncing with excitement. “I’ve always wanted to go. It’s going to be fucking brilliant.”

“Sounds good,” it was hardly going to be the holiday it sounded like she was expecting, but he didn’t want to dampen her enthusiasm. “Wish I was going with you. I’m off to Latvia on Wednesday.” Fucking _Latvia._ Honestly. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” she said, head tilted, a little more cautious, “what’s he like to work with?”

“Who?” He knew who she meant.

“Arthur. Just in case I end up on an assignment with him or whatever. Thought it might be good to know.” 

Once again, Eggsy was reminded that, excluding the other night, the two of them had never even been on a mission together. It made him feel the unexpected distance between them even more keenly, and he struggled to come up with an answer. What was he like? Grumpy, quite often. Unpredictable. Charming, when he wanted. Strict even more so. A softie, at the heart of it all. A lying prick who’d let Eggsy believe he was dead. “He’s a fucking delight,” he muttered, and marched off along the corridor, leaving Flora to frown after him in confusion.

When he reached Harry’s office, he knocked – he wasn’t an animal – but opened the door without waiting for an answer. Harry was behind his desk, perfect and poised as ever, and didn’t even look up from his papers as Eggsy approached.

“Good morning, Eggsy.”

“Mornin’.” 

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Nah thanks,” he said, dredging up one of those fragments he hadn’t let himself think about again until recently, when Harry had taken him into his home and embarked on the frustrating quest to teach him some manners. “Can I sit down?”

Harry looked up at him then, startled, then fond, before arranging his face into a look that meant business. “Please.”

“This isn’t to do with the other night, is it?” Eggsy had already looked over the official report Harry had filed about their mostly unsuccessful assignment, and it had made no mention of their thinly veiled sparring. But that didn’t mean Harry had nothing to say about it.

“Yes, and no.” Harry sighed, looking tired, and sat a little straighter. The streak of white hair that grew from the scar by his temple stood stark against the brown. “Eggsy, there are several people employed here that I don’t see eye to eye with. Other agents even – Bedivere’s an utter tosspot, and I can assure you the feeling is mutual enough that I don’t think he’d object to me saying so. But we can work together all the same, because we must.” He clasped his hands together on top of the desk, something Eggsy had known him long enough to know he only did when he was trying to keep a lid on whatever he was feeling. “I must admit though, that I never thought you would be one such person. If you feel you’d rather carry on as we are, then I won’t press the matter. But I at least want to know where you stand.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he sniffed, feeling childish even as he said it.

“Yes you do Eggsy, and it’s insulting to both of us to pretend otherwise,” he said briskly. “Tell me what it is that’s troubling you, so we can get past it.”

“Alright, fine,” he threw up his hands and looked Harry hard in the eye. “I’m not fucking happy with you.”

“I thought as much.”

That was about the point when Eggsy thought fuck it, and started shouting. Harry shouted back. He might have cried, only a little, but naturally Harry was too much of a gentleman to mention it. They shouted out of fear, and of relief, of loss and hurt and how god damn lucky they were that things hadn’t ended worse. When they had shouted themselves hoarse, Harry moved around the desk to pull Eggsy into a somewhat stilted hug, and he got tears all over Harry’s jacket as he sagged in relief at having said it all out loud. Things were better after that.

~

While most of the Kingsman agents’ London homes were situated close together for the sake of convenience, no two were on the same street, as a safety precaution should one ever be discovered or compromised. The house Eggsy had moved into with his mum and sister was larger and more comfortable than their little family ever could have dreamed. His mum had taken to it instantly, and within days of them getting the keys the place had been covered with test patches of paint and curtain samples. He’d let her get on with it, offering his opinion when asked, but he was mainly just happy to see her happy. And he’d had other things to think about – their house was in the street behind Harry’s. He could see a sliver of it from the bathroom window. 

Months after they’d moved in and the décor finally deemed worthy, his mum had some friends ‘round, to show off all her hard work. She hadn’t seen her old lot properly in years, thanks to Dean’s poking his nose in. They were having a good old natter, making their way steadily through several bottles of red, Ed Sheeran playing in the background, and cackling over the good ol’ days. He was ready for all the hugs and shrieks they greeted him with, fielded all the questions about his sudden new and well-paying job with ease. It wasn’t until the inevitable questions about his love life that he hit a snag.

“Got a girlfriend then, Eggsy?” Trish topped up her wine and leant back into the numerous scatter cushions.

“Or more than one, maybe?” Sharon winked at him from under her sparkly eyeshadow. Hadn’t changed a bit, bless her heart.

“Err, none at the moment, nah.” He grinned and set aside his own glass – he’d never much liked wine, but Sharon had insisted he have one with them.

“He says he’s too busy with work when I ask him,” his mum rolled her eyes and gave his shoulder a fond squeeze. “But I keep telling him, the odd date wouldn’t hurt.”

“Come on, you must have a queue of birds lining up to go out with you,” Trish said, rubbing JB’s belly where he lay wriggling at her feet. He was fucking loving the attention, little traitor. “Especially with your fancy new job, eh?”

“Oo enjoy it while you’re young, Eggsy,” Jackie waved her glass as she spoke, and Michelle narrowed her eyes at the potential damage to her beloved new sofas. 

“Too right,” Sharon raised her glass in agreement. “What a lovely lad like you’s doin’ spending his Friday night with us old lot when he could be out painting the town red is beyond me.”

“Oi, speak for yourself!” Michelle sniffed. “I ain’t fifty yet, unlike some people, _Jackie.”_

Safely tucked away with his mum looking more content than he’d seen her in ages, surrounded by the comforting noise of her tipsy and giggling friends, he was suddenly aware that things would be starkly different in the house the next street over. Once the image of Harry sitting alone in his house with no one but his fucking weird dead dog to keep him company got into his head, Eggsy couldn’t shake it. Resolved, he winced as he downed the remainder of his wine, and stood up.

“D’you know what, I might pop out for a bit after all.” His announcement was met with a chorus of whistling and cheering and winking from the peanut gallery. “Good to see you again, ladies.” He meant it and all. “Don’t be strangers, yeah?”

It only took a minute to cut across the street and around the corner to Harry’s place. It wasn’t a particularly odd thing to do after all, to call on a friend on a Friday night. Though ‘friend’ didn’t seem enough to describe how he felt about Harry, he didn’t have anything better. He considered jumping the back wall and letting himself in, just to see Harry’s face, but decided it would probably be better all-round if he just knocked on the front door. Y’know, like normal people did. 

“Eggsy,” Harry might have been surprised to see him, but Eggsy couldn’t be sure, since he covered it so quickly with a careful smile. He was still wearing his suit, though sans jacket, and his shirt sleeves were rolled neatly to the elbow. Had he still been working this late on a Friday night? Fuck. “Come in.” 

“Thanks.”

Harry led him through to the living room, decorated with a few tasteful paintings and a squashy, cream coloured sofa. He’d seen the room before, when Harry had given him a brief tour during their allotted twenty four hours together for his training, but they’d spent more time in the study. This felt decidedly more domestic, intimate than then. He liked it. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Harry asked as he showed him in.

“Mum had some friends over,” he said, “they were getting a bit much for me.”

Harry laughed softly, the slightest bit of tension leaving him, and Eggsy was suddenly really glad he’d stomped off to his boss’ house late at night for no reason other than to say hi. “Can I get you a drink?” 

They sat on Harry’s sofa, an awkward distance between them as Harry sipped brandy and Eggsy some fancy beer he’d never heard of, but was delighted to discover Harry kept in his fridge all the same. Harry flicked on the telly for some background noise when their conversation hit a lull, and they sat through an episode of Downton Abbey while Harry picked holes in the plot line and Eggsy scored each character out of ten for attractiveness. Not many scored above a four. And alright it might have been stupid, but by the end of the episode, the awkward distance was gone. Eggsy was sprawled across most of the sofa, and every last line of tension was gone from Harry’s body, although he did keep pointedly moving Eggsy’s glass on the coffee table so it sat on a coaster. They chatted about nothing in particular, but it was fun, and it was easy.  
A couple of hours later, and it was tempting to just curl up on Harry’s sofa and go to sleep like a fucking cat. He felt more at ease than he had in months; in a nest of cushions that smelt faintly of Harry’s rich cologne, the man himself mere inches away, so close Eggsy could feel the warmth of his body, the clink of a glass as he set it on the table, low murmurings of the telly in the background. But he couldn’t. Instead he dragged himself to his feet and let Harry show him out, so relaxed, so happy things weren’t utter shit between them anymore that he was tempted to go in for a hug, but thought better of it. Too complicated. 

“Goodnight, Eggsy.”

“Yeah. Night Harry.” 

He stumbled a little as he hopped down Harry’s front steps, and alright, he was definitely a bit wavy. Probably because he’d dashed out of his own living room before his mum and her friends had got the planned takeaway in, and as well as he could take his drink, wine and beer on an empty stomach was never going to go well. Knowing his mum though, she’d have left him something in the fridge. And yep, star that she was, there was a tub of egg fried rice and sweet and sour chicken waiting for him. Result. He shovelled it down with a speed Harry would probably be appalled by and made his way up the stairs, careful not to wake his mum or sister.  
He slipped into an easy, tipsy sleep, filled with blurry and half formed dreams about Harry, his clever hands, and the plush sofa cushions under his back. He woke up with a raging hard on, which he was pretty sure was purely a coincidence.

~

“Come on then Rox, enlighten me,” Eggsy said, sinking further into the depths of the purple bean bag chair in his best mate’s bedroom, “what are your biggest turn-offs?”

“Really Eggsy?” she raised an eyebrow at him in the mirror. She was getting herself all dressed up for a honeypot mission, and, as he had nothing better to do, Eggsy was pestering her.

“What? I told you mine.” Her poodle eyed him distastefully from where it sat primly on the floral throw at the foot of her bed. It was plain fucking weird how both the dog and it’s mistress could make the exact same expression of distain. 

“Yes, but I certainly didn’t ask,” she slid a diamond pin into her carefully tousled hair. No doubt it had a secondary function, if he knew Merlin at all. 

“Fine,” he tried to sit up straighter, and failed as the beans shifted around under his weight, “turn-ons, then.”

“Alright,” she said thoughtfully, touching up her already perfect plum coloured lipstick, “I like men who can cook, and girls with an arse you could park a bike in. Happy?”

Huh. Fair enough.

“What about you?”

“What?”

“I told you mine,” she repeated his earlier statement with a wicked curl of her lip.

“Right. I like girls who know what they’re about. You know, they don’t take shit from nobody.” He left out the fact that he enjoyed a nice pair of tits as much as the next guy – he was pretty sure Roxy wouldn’t’ve been impressed by such a declaration. Although, given what she’d just come out with, maybe he was wrong on that score. “Confidence is sexy, yeah?”

“You sound like a Cosmo article,” she quirked an eyebrow at him in the mirror. “And guys?”

“How did you know I – I’ve never said – “ he stammered, wrong-footed. 

“Just a suspicion,” she said with an elegant shrug of her bared shoulder. “Now answer the question.”

“Right then. Err…” he floundered for a moment, never having thought about it to the extent that he had to make a sodding list on the subject before. “Well, I guess I like them a bit older. And smooth, you know? Like old school chill. Smart, like a good dresser.” Roxy snorted, looking pointedly at his trainers. “And I like a guy who knows what he’s doing too – I guess that one’s not gender specific, heh.” 

“I fucking knew it.”

“What?”

“Haven’t given it an awful lot of thought, have you?” she drawled, or as much as she allowed her clipped voice to drawl. “That’s a rather specific list you have.”

“So?”

She scooped up her clutch bag and turned around, giving him a pitying look he had no idea how he’d earned. “Oh you poor, oblivious boy.”

“Roxy – “

“Come on, out with you or I’ll be late,” she cut him off, checking her lipstick one last time and ruffling his hair before she ushered him out of the room. Before he’d even registered what had happened, he was out on the pavement and blinking under the streetlights. He was a fucking secret spy and women were still a flaming mystery. 

“G’night Rox. Knock ‘em dead, yeah?” Of course would, literally, if she had to. 

“Of course. And Eggsy,” she said as she hopped onto the waiting taxi, “you’re arse over tit in love with him and it’s painfully obvious to everyone within a ten mile radius, so please do something about it.” She slammed the car door shut before he could say answer. Not that he had one. 

Eggsy wasn’t an idiot, contrary to what Merlin or one of the handlers might hiss in his ear during a mission when he did something particularly creative. It was just that he’d had a lot of practice at hiding how he felt while he was growing up, apparently from himself as well as Dean and his mum. So it wasn’t long after he’d gone to bed that night, half waiting for a message from Rox to say how her evening’s work had gone and letting his mind wander, when – as usual – it wandered to Harry, and he had to admit that _fine,_ maybe he did fancy Harry a little bit. Okay, quite a lot. Alright, maybe he more than fancied him. If you wanted to be specific, he was just about the most important person in Eggsy’s life and he couldn’t imagine living without him again. Or… something like that. Fuck. 

He didn’t use the word ‘love’ lightly. Only with his mum, probably. It was the sort of thing Dean beat out of him pretty quick once he’d infiltrated their lives. Men didn’t talk about feelings, apparently. But when he thought back over the past month or so… he’d done a pretty good job of foiling an assassination attempt on Monaco, if he said so himself, and the week he’d spent under cover as an employee in a casino was worth it, for Merlin’s satisfied nod or brief flash of a smile, the pride that Harry looked at him with when he congratulated him on a job well done. A couple of weeks ago, his mum had invited Harry over for coffee and to see what she’d done with the place, and the other agent had spent the entire time he was there playing with his little sister. Eggsy wasn’t sure which seemed more enchanted by the other. Then the two of them had been sent across to Berlin to monitor a suspected illegal arms dealer, and endured a rather uncomfortable night long stakeout, which Eggsy spent a majority of wondering out loud why their sodding office in Berlin that Harry once mentioned wasn’t doing this instead of them. They got no sleep and no sightings of the mark. Harry insisted on taking him for breakfast before they got the plane home, and they spent an easy hour together over coffee and pastries and thinly veiled flirting, and... Yeah, he was in love with Harry.

~

Eggsy had never been one to fuck about once he’d decided to do something. He made decisions and he followed them through, sometimes even if he knew full well they were stupid ones. And while he was sure that telling Harry how he felt wasn’t stupid – if he had to pick one word to describe it, he might go for ‘inevitable’ – that didn’t make it any easier to figure out how to go about it. He was pretty sure Harry would bust a vein if he just marched in there and snogged him – that was probably something a gentleman didn’t do. Alright, so he’d wing it. That usually worked out fine anyway.

He let himself into the shop and went straight through to the ‘dining room.’ He didn’t bother knocking, it wasn’t like it was Harry’s office or nothing. The sun shone thick through the large windows, hitting the portraits and lighting up the green wallpaper and dust shifted in the light. Harry looked up from the paperwork on the table with a long suffering sigh at Eggsy’s continued inability to knock first. Truth be told, it was only Harry he didn’t bother knocking for. That was number twenty four on the list of signs that Eggsy was in love with him and hadn’t realised. 

“Eggsy,” he said, shuffling the papers into order with a decisive thump against the table top. “What can I do for you? Best make it quick though, I have to be on the shuttle in – “ he looked down at his watch, “seven and a half minutes.”

“I love you.” What? They were pressed for time, and Eggsy was done fucking about.

“Oh.” For a moment Harry looked as though he was going to pretend he had no idea what Eggsy was talking about, but instead he clicked the cap onto his pen and leant back in his chair. “I see.”

“’I see.’ That all you’ve got to say about it?” Eggsy squared his shoulders. This was a fight of sorts after all, and one that he wasn’t ready to lose.

“No actually, there’s rather a lot I’ve got to say on the matter,” he swallowed, a sign Eggsy had caught him off guard, at least. One fucking nil to Eggsy. “Though I can’t seem to remember any of it just now.”

“Well try, yeah? Cos this is actually kind of a big a deal for me, and I’d really rather you not just sweep it under the rug with all your gentleman bullshit Harry, this isn’t the sort of thing – “

“I love you too.”

Oh. “Yeah? Well… good.” Thank fuck for that. He’d forgotten that, underneath his smooth politeness, Harry wasn’t exactly one to fuck around either. One all, then. 

“There are a multitude of reasons why us being together is a terrible idea, and I suspect we’ll discover more yet as we go along, but I won’t bore you with them now.” 

“Way to ruin the moment Harry, Jesus.”

“Eggsy, all I want to say for the moment is, are you sure?”

“Of course I’m fucking sure,” Eggsy was a bit insulted that he would even ask. “What sort of fucking question is that? I’m not a – “

“Eggsy?”

“What?”

“Come here.”

“Oh,” he cracked a grin, “right.”

He tried not to look too eager as he moved closer to where Harry sat at the head of the table, waiting. When he made no move to stand, Eggsy swung his leg over to straddle Harry’s lap, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Harry looked at him evenly, still making no move other than to tilt his chin up expectantly, at which point Eggsy thought fuck it, and brought his hand around the back of Harry’s neck to pull him in for a kiss. A proper one this time, not the sad, manufactured excuse for a snog that he’d given him on their ill-fated evening in the bar, for the benefit of their shady onlookers. Nope. This one was just for Harry. Just for them. It was messy, both of them keen and as such misjudging the rhythm of the other. Both normally so smooth in their mission seductions, but utterly thrown now it was no longer the calculated display of affection usually required, nor the perfectly tailored kiss made to play on a mark’s tastes and win them over. It was hot and wet and sweet, Harry’s teeth caught on his lip and his hand on his hip, perfect and spontaneous but inevitable. Frankly it was a fucking brilliant snog, and Eggsy fully intended to make each time he kissed Harry a step up from the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might add a chapter where they bang, because let's face it, that's what the people want ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested, here is the second chapter that bumps this shit up a rating :)  
> Thanks for the kudos and comments etc, I usually would've replied, but it's been a heck of a busy week. Tbh this fic feels a bit messy to me, but I'm going to use the excuse that I'm still not used to writing for this fandom yet.  
> Colin Firth has been a steady and comforting presence in my life for the past twenty years, and it feels really damn weird writing porn featuring one of his characters haa. And yes, I stole the speakerphone thing from Bridget Jones two, which I'm sure has been done before, it was too good to resist.

Eggsy was bored out of his mind. He’d been thrown in at the deep end with his ascension into the ranks of Kingsman, what with Valentine and the madness left in his wake, and his head had been so full of saving the world and the perks that came with it, that it had never occurred to him that – as with most jobs – there’d be the odd rainy Thursday afternoon with nothing to do but a tedious stack of paperwork. Shit.  
And alright, it didn’t happen that often. They were all usually kept busy enough, one way or another, with shit straight out of a spy novel. For example, he’d spent most of last week on a solo mission in Rome tracking a potential ring of art smugglers, and the week before that in Rio with the new agent Kay, the old one having been swayed by Chester King into getting one of those sodding chips implanted. Idiot. His replacement was a thirty-something Mancunian who’d been promoted up from another Kingsman department in their haste to top up their ranks. He smoked like a train, and Eggsy was frankly astonished he’d passed the fitness tests, but they got on alright.

Assignments aside, even at HQ he could usually find something to keep him occupied when there was nothing else going on – the gym or firing range, or pestering Roxy. She was usually happy to escape with him for coffee, especially if he was buying, and even more so if he threw in a few biscotti to sweeten the deal. She was mad for the sodding things.  
And of course there was Harry. The few weeks they’d been together after sorting out the mess of emotion that had accompanied his return from the dead had been some of the best of Eggsy’s life. He’d felt a dopey twat admitting it, but Harry had looked pleased anyway. As well as the unexpected and embarrassingly intense affection he felt for Harry, the man was frankly a wonder between the sheets. Eggsy had messed about with a few blokes before, but never anything that involved – usually just blowies or hand jobs in the loos when he was a bit wavy. But fuck, the things that man could do… He was still astonished the pair of them had made it into work at all the week they’d started shagging. There were so many bite marks scattered across his torso and thighs, it looked like he’d got on the wrong side of a vicious paintballer. 

But he didn’t even have Harry to distract himself with today. The head of Kingsman in the UK was hidden away in his office with half a dozen important people visiting from various other Kingsman factions, getting each other up to speed on the results of regeneration projects following V-Day. Sounded dull as fuck, to be honest. He hoped Harry wasn’t as bored as he was… actually no, he kind of did, because it was shit and he wasn’t above dragging Harry down with him. There must be something he could… his eyes landed on his glasses, carefully folded and sitting on the top of his desk. He smirked to himself as an idea took shape. Surely Harry wouldn’t mind if he took it upon himself to spice the dreary afternoon up a bit for the both of them. If the day the two of them had barricaded themselves in fitting room two and hadn’t left until Eggsy had come at least three times (could have been four, it was a bit of a blur truth be told) was anything to go by, he wouldn’t mind all that much. He slid his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through the lists of other agents, departments and devices he had in his contacts, and gleefully tapped the link that would enable him to speak to Harry privately through his glasses. Merlin would be in the meeting too, so there’d be no one else listening in as he amused himself by whispering filthy things in Harry’s ear from several rooms away. 

“Arthur,” he said softly into his phone, not bothering to keep his grin of anticipation in check since there was no one there to see him.

“Galahad,” said Harry crisply, “what can I do for you?” 

Huh. He hadn’t necessarily been expecting Harry to reply, assuming he’d be too busy with whatever they were discussing and would simply stay silent, most likely irritated but enjoying Eggsy’s lewd chattering. “Well sir,” he put on his ‘posh voice’ in the knowledge that with the correct application, it drove Harry mad, “I was thinking more about what you could do to me, actually.”

He heard Harry cover a cough of surprise. “Galahad, I – “

“But I will start by saying this, sir, because it’s all I’ve been thinking about all afternoon,” he purred, “you do have a genuinely lovely bottom.”

He distinctly heard Merlin cough somewhere in the background, mostly likely urging Harry to hang up and get back to business, before Harry spoke again. “Galahad, I really don’t think – “ 

“Perhaps you could excuse yourself for a moment, and come and fuck me over my desk?” Eggsy said, enunciating each word with care. “I’ve got myself all ready for you, you see,” he’d done no such thing, but it hardly mattered when he was only teasing Harry through his tedious meeting; artistic licence and all, “shame to let it go to waste.”

“...As lovely as that sounds Eggsy, I really must stop you there, because as you know I’m currently with the heads of our offices for Northern Europe, and you’re on speakerphone.”

What? Oh. _Oh…_

“Fuck.” Eggsy slipped back into his normal voice as he fumbled with his phone. “Shit, I’m sorry, I’ll just… fuck.” 

He eventually managed to hang up, staring at his phone in disbelief. He must have hit the wrong button and got the connection straight through into Harry’s office rather than his glasses. Which, after he got over the surprise, was pretty fucking hilarious. Hopefully Harry would share the sentiment; both of them had pretty high thresholds where embarrassment was concerned. He only hoped he hadn’t offended their visitors too much. 

~

An hour or so later, and Eggsy was back to being bored off his face again. He’d sent Rox a quick message telling her he had something funny as fuck to tell her when she got back from Chiang Mai, and fiddled about with a new update Merlin had installed on his tablet, before he was once again twiddling his thumbs.  
Tristan had popped his head around the door once, to grudgingly ask his opinion on some report he was filing. He was also new, the previous Tristan having gone the same way as the old Kay, and less of surprise than the new Kay and Geraint had been. He was blonde and polished and a bit of a prick, similar to some of the twats that had trained alongside Eggsy, though apparently more adept, as he had actually made it through to the end and won the position. Eggsy sent him on his way as quick as he could – some things were worse than boredom.

He was considering just cutting his losses and trying to sneak off home early to surprise his mum and sister, when Harry let himself into Eggsy’s office. Without knocking. Hypocrite. 

Sitting up straighter, he didn’t even bother to fight the knee jerk reaction to simply grin like a soppy idiot whenever he saw him. “Alright Harry?”

“Good afternoon, Eggsy,” Harry closed the door smartly behind him, and stood expectantly, one hand on his hip, waiting for Eggsy to make the first move. 

“Meeting going alright?” Eggsy asked, all innocence, and pretended to look over the stack of previously ignored papers on his desk.

“Yes, no thanks to you,” Harry’s voice was tight, but a hint of amusement seeped through all the same. “You do realise how awkward that was for all parties, I hope.”

For just a moment, the thinnest, barest fragment of time, Eggsy wondered if he was in actual trouble, rather than just having committed a mere social faux pas, and had accidentally broken some kind of fucking ancient subsection of Kingsman conduct that no one had bothered to tell him about because he was supposed to ‘just know.’ But then Harry’s left eye narrowed ever so slightly, a muscle twitched in his neck, and Eggsy knew exactly what sort of game it was they were playing.

“Nah,” he said lightly, dropping the papers back onto his desk in disarray. “I can’t say that I did.” 

“Is that so?” Harry said, glancing down to straighten his already perfectly aligned shirt cuff. “It’s rather a pity I don’t believe you, then. You knew exactly what you were doing, my dear boy.” 

“Maybe I did,” he stood, backing up against the desk so he could lean on it, thighs parting just the tiniest amount, a hint of a suggestion, but enough that Harry’s eyes flicked down at the movement, “and maybe I didn’t.” He cocked an eyebrow.

“I’m rather inclined to believe the former.” Harry slunk closer across the room, silent and sleek, Eggsy counting off every moment before he would finally pounce. 

“’S that right?” he said vaguely, his lips dry. He licked them, and Harry’s eyes followed his tongue.

“Mm.” 

Harry was close enough now that Eggsy could feel the low hum of agreement through his chest, could make out the individual strands of white hair from the scar at his temple, could see the dark of his pupils blown wide behind his glasses. He assumed the feed was turned off – Merlin still hadn’t forgiven them for the one time Eggsy’d accidentally left his on while sucking Harry’s cock. Very unreasonable of him. Harry leant forward into his space, managing to crowd him against the desk without touching him at all, standing between Eggsy’s parted legs. And yeah, the anticipation was great and all, Harry was a fucking master at building the tension, but Eggsy wanted it now.  
He darted up to kiss him, hand curled into the hair at the base of Harry’s neck, biting softly at his lower lip to draw some kind of reaction from him. Harry continued to kiss him back, frustratingly steady, just enough pressure to tease but not satisfy. And Eggsy wasn’t fucking having it.

“Sir,” he pulled back just enough so he could murmur the words against Harry’s lips, easing back into his ridiculous ‘posh voice’ as he rubbed up against him, “I do hope I didn’t get you into trouble.”

Harry’s breath hitched, so minutely that Eggsy wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been looking out for it, his hand clenching in the fabric of Eggsy’s shirt. Fucking bingo. 

“I’ll show you trouble, you little tart.”

Never in his life would Eggsy have guessed such a sentence could be said with such sincere affection. But that was how Harry had been with him every step of the way; a surprise at every turn, admittedly some more pleasant than others. All thoughts of tenderness were flung abruptly from his mind as Harry dug his fingers hard into Eggsy’s hips, flipping him around so he was bent forward over the desk, hard-on pressed against the edge of the finely carved wood. He let a soft gasp fall from his throat at the sudden movement, though he could easily have stifled it. But Harry liked to hear every little whine and moan he drew from his lips, and to be honest Eggsy got off on it himself, so everyone was a winner there. He placed his hands flat on the top of the desk, fingers splayed and slipping where his palms were damp against the smooth varnish. Harry stood close behind him, chest pressed to Eggsy’s back, perfectly aligned as he nipped at the back of Eggsy’s neck and ran his hands over his chest, thumb rough against his nipple.

“You are ever so naughty, you know,” he said evenly, as though he were discussing the sodding weather. Eggsy knew full well his apparent indifference was just another method of teasing, but that didn’t nothing lessen his urge to snap him out of it, to mess him up. He let his legs slip further apart, rolling his hips back and pressing his arse against the hard line of his cock. “Somebody’s eager,” his lips were soft on the skin behind Eggsy’s ear. “I think perhaps you ought to put your money where your mouth is, hm?” 

“Fucking finally.”

Alright, so Eggsy hadn’t actually fingered himself open on the off chance Harry would pop into his office for a quickie, and there was no time to faff about with all that now (the others were probably waiting for Harry to get back to the meeting, he knew all too well the bloody things took longer than a couple of hours) but they would be very unimaginative indeed if they couldn’t think of something else. Fortunately there was a half empty bottle of lube in the bottom draw of Eggsy’s desk for just such times, which Harry pulled away briefly to fish out from under the mess of stationary.

“You may have many qualities darling,” Harry said as he frowned at the clutter lining the draw before sliding it shut, “but desk organisation is certainly not one of them.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m fucking messy I know, get on with it yeah?” he wriggled against him again, hoping to prompt him back into action.

“Impatient,” Harry tutted, as he placed the bottle on the desk.

“I know Merlin gave you lube to keep in here as a joke, but I’m really fucking glad he did,” Eggsy quickly undid his belt and trousers to untuck his shirt, shivering when Harry’s cool fingers slipped soft over the bare skin of his lower back.

“Mm,” Harry’s hand moved lower, into the front of his trousers, toying with the waistband of his underwear. His sickeningly expensive underwear that Harry had bought for him, of all things. “He was probably more serious than you think.”

“I dunno if that’s considerate or just plain weird,” his breath caught on the last word as Harry slid his thumb deftly under the elastic and let it snap taught back against Eggsy’s skin. “Fuck. Stop fucking about Harry, yeah?”

“If you wish,” he could hear the smugness drenching Harry’s voice as he pressed a soft kiss to Eggsy’s ear. 

“Bastard,” he muttered in reply, Harry’s soft huff of laughter warm on his skin.

With one practised move, Harry tugged Eggsy’s trousers and boxers down to just above his knees, pulled tight by his spread legs. He hissed at the cool air of the perfectly air conditioned room on his exposed skin, the muscles in his bum and the backs of his legs taught. The palm of Harry’s hand spread firm and possessive over Eggsy’s arse, and fuck if he didn’t love it when Harry got just a little bit protective. There was something about seeing the little chink in his composure that made it all the sweeter.

“Harry,” Eggsy prompted, shifting his hips into Harry’s touch impatiently.

“Right,” Harry cleared his throat, “yes.”

Eggsy heard the soft rustle of fabric as Harry unfastened his trousers, the snick as he flipped the cap of the lube, the sharp intake of breath as Harry touched himself – but he didn’t turn around, keeping his eyes fixed on the polished wood of his desk. The clock on the wall behind them seemed impossibly loud, each tick harsh in the thick air of the room. He couldn’t stop his flinch as Harry put his cock between Eggsy’s thighs, the warmed lube and hot flesh fucking fantastic on the soft skin there.

“Legs together,” Harry said gently in his ear, unnecessarily so, as Eggsy was already scrambling to obey, clamping his thighs tight around Harry’s slicked cock. 

He braced himself against the desk as Harry began to move, tantalisingly slow rocking at first, making Eggsy squirm and snarl underneath him, so close to perfection, but not enough.

“Fucking _move,_ Harry, fuck.”

“Since you asked so eloquently…” Eggsy supposed the breathlessness in Harry’s voice went some way to making him feel better, like they were both just as wrecked as each other.

They moved quicker, the noise of their slick skin and heavy breathing almost as loud as that sodding clock. Eggsy thrust desperately into the empty air above the desk, and Harry took pity, reaching around to take his cock between his slick fingers. It was that familiar touch that did him in, Harry’s hand curling and stroking him hard, teetering on the edge of painful, and just right to have him coming over the shining surface of the desk top. 

“Harry…” Eggsy moaned brokenly as he shuddered through his orgasm, Harry’s name on his lips tipping the latter over the edge as well, teeth on the back of Eggsy’s neck as he came between his thighs, smearing thick and hot down his legs.

“I do love you, you know,” Harry said, voice cracked and quiet and muffled into Eggsy’s shoulder, “so very much.”

“I love you too Harry,” Eggsy craned his neck back to kiss whatever bit of Harry’s face he could reach, “even though you’re a soft git.”

“Takes one to know one, my dear.”

After a quick wipe down which turned into lazy, sated snogging in Eggsy’s desk chair, Harry reluctantly eased Eggsy off his lap to get back to the meeting.

“I said I’d be half an hour, and it’s been double that already,” he said in response to Eggsy’s pouting.

“You’re the boss, yeah?” Eggsy wound Harry’s tie around his fingers, “don’t you get perks and stuff?” Like being able to cut stupid sodding glorified staff meetings short so your boyfriend can suck you off in his desk chair. 

Harry ignored him. “I do hope you were actually planning on getting _some_ work done this afternoon,” he batted Eggsy’s hand away and adjusted his tie, eyeing the papers they’d knocked to the floor in their enthusiasm.

Eggsy snorted. “Fuck that for a bag of fairies.”

Harry paused in his fussing over the position of his tie to look at Eggsy with fond bemusement. “My dear, you do come out with the most intriguing turns of phrase.” 

“Well, I can only get so much use out of ‘yes sir.’”

“Now that one I’m more familiar with.”

They spent a another quiet moment making themselves and the office presentable, getting everything back to the clean cut edges and tidy lines that were expected, and Eggsy resigned himself to another few hours of boring Harrylessness. There was a blob of come on the top of his desk. He swiped it off with a tissue and flung it towards the bin. 

“I really did dial through to your office phone by accident you know,” he said, “I meant to get your glasses.”

“Of course I know. Even you aren’t prone to flaunting quite so blatantly, darling.” The endearment was still new, still made something in Eggsy’s chest jump and clench in disbelief that it was meant for him.

“I would say I won’t do it again, but if this is the thanks I get I might ‘ave to.”

“Mm, well I might just welcome it. That was the most sodding tedious discussion I’ve had to sit through in a long while. The thought of another hour or two on Norway’s abysmal current political landscape is hardly an enticing one.”

“Well then,” Eggsy grinned as he sat down behind his desk. “Put your glasses back on, yeah? If you’re lucky, I might just manage to get the right connection this time.”


End file.
